A Story of One Hundred Words

Recently my writing professor challenged the class to a flash fiction writing assignment of exactly one-hundred words.

In brief, flash fiction is a short form of storytelling. Defining it by the number of words or sentences or even pages required to tell a story, however, is impossible, for it differs from writer to writer, editor to editor. Some purists insist that it is a complete story told in less than 75 words; others claim 100 should be the maximum. For less-rigid flashers, anything under 1,000 words can be considered flash-worthy. And there are even a few who stretch their limits to 1,500 words.

Not only is the definition of flash fiction unstable, but the name is as well. Pamelyn Casto recounts its various titles in her article Flashes on the Meridian: Dazzled by Flash Fiction:

Other names for it include short-short stories, sudden, postcard, minute, furious, fast, quick, skinny, and micro fiction. In France such works are called nouvelles. In China this type of writing has several interesting names: little short story, pocket-size story, minute-long story, palm-sized story, and my personal favorite, the smoke-long story (just long enough to read while smoking a cigarette). What's in a name? That which we call flash fiction, by any other name would read as bright.

To up the ante, my professor insisted we use the following specific words in our very short story:
beard, orange, hollow, fences. This is the result of my efforts:

I dreamt this salt-kissed fantasy of pressing my nose to that empty hollow between your collar bones, and inhaling the orange and bergamot of your beard oil as my fingers trailed over your skin like I was mapping out a hidden treasure.

It was midnight. That way, I didn’t freckle as we kissed. It wasn’t an exotic swath of sand where the scent of coconuts has its place. It was our beach – temperamental, sometimes fog shrouded, windy, and taciturn – a moody bitch. And yet... beautiful, for her elusiveness. Wild and somehow untamed, despite the careful signage and fences and rules.

What about you? What sort of story would you tell if you only had one-hundred words to convey it?
 

PUSH

Update - This novel is releasing as PUSH in November 2015. Keep an eye out for the cover reveal in September!

Here's the blurb:

Charlie Flynn never gave much thought to need. She wanted mostly to keep her head down and do her job. It had never crossed her mind that she deserved to be happy, loved and wanted - by a man. A second date with someone interesting was about all she could aspire to.

But her well-intended sister figures Charlie has nothing to lose by going out on a date with
Declan Pearse, the man who just happens to be Charlie’s incredibly sexy new boss.

Throwing caution to the wind, Charlie falls headlong into a dangerous and dark romance that leaves her bound by her desires and ripe with need.

Declan Pearse, youngest of the Pearse brothers, wants nothing more than to succeed as head of the Pittsburgh branch of Pearse Publishing. He never mixes business with pleasure, but all of that changes when he is set up on a blind date with research associate Charlotte Flynn.

Suddenly, Declan stops playing by his own rules and claims Charlotte for himself. And when a man like Declan Pearse wants you, the only thing you can do is give in to his every desire

Trapped in a Song by Nicole Pouchet

Happy Book Birthday to Nicole Pouchet! Today is release day for her hot new romance, Trapped in a Song published by Decadent Publishing. Here are all the details about this great paranormal read:

If Detective Jori Anzoli has to do one more telepathic reading for the Las Vegas Police Department, her para-capabilities may fry out. That doesn’t matter when she’s called in to help find eight men who mysteriously went missing. The case escalates quickly. Clairvoyants in the department are scared to touch it, her brother becomes the ninth missing man, and the Paranormal Investigative Agency (PIA) sends a distractingly handsome agent who hassles her every step of the way.

Agent Del Moore is on a mission to find the PIA’s missing biomedical weapons engineer. A retro-cognizant, Del is used to avoiding human contact unless the job demands it. The less intrusive knowledge he has about others, the better. But a brush with the aloof Detective Jori may change his mind. He can’t ignore her warm essence, especially when she impossibly summons him into her dream.

As mounting clues lead Jori and Del to go deep undercover into a Nevada brothel, an ancient succubus preys on every living soul within, placing Jori and Del on separate hallucinogenic paths of destruction. Will they learn the truth behind the brothel and their mission before succumbing to an ulterior plan neither of them wishes to see?

About the Author

Nicole Pouchet is a memoirist and a paranormal romance novelist. Books from her Elemental Myths paranormal romance series have enjoyed spots on Amazon’s Bestseller lists. Layla’s Gale, A Paranormal Romance won second prize in the 2013 Amazon Breakthrough Novel Award contest.

Still amazed to be an adult, Nicole has managed to center her life around raising her two small sons and being true to her family (including husband and friends). She resides in Leesburg, Virginia where she owns a marketing agency. Happiest near the water, Nicole spends her free hours plotting her next escape, writing, and staring at the ceiling.

Website

www.NicolePouchet.com

Social Media

Twitter: @NPouchet

Facebook: www.Facebook.com/NicolePouchet

Excerpt

She applauded her dream version of Agent Del. If she had to have lucid dreams, this was a great one to have. She met his gaze, and he ogled her body as openly as she did his.

“This is a welcome surprise.” His voice sounded even sexier in the dream. “Y’know, Jori, you’d better be careful with this dream manipulation,” he teased before stepping into her space. “People will think you’re a lucid.”

“Who’ll tell? You’re just my fantasy.”

“And you’re my every desire come to life. I wonder….” He leaned down and pressed his mouth against hers, pulling her closer as they both ceased speech.

Standing on her toes, she let her hands roam the contours of his back. He pulled her in tightly, lifting her higher until she wrapped her legs around his waist. His hard length pressed against her center.

He tasted her mouth, delving with the kind of abandon only found in fantasy, and pushed them both onto a bed that materialized as soon as she wished for it.

“Del….” she moaned when her head hit the pillows.

He reached under her and palmed her bottom then pulled her closer while grinding down into her. “You’re wearing too many clothes. I want to touch all of you.” He reached up and then pulled her T-shirt off over her head.

With a laugh, she let her head bounce back to the pillow. His chest loomed above her, the tattoo of an eagle over his right nipple.

The giggle died on her lips. She didn’t know he had a tattoo and wouldn’t have placed it there in her dream. He was real. She was about to have sex with the real Agent Del Moore. Dream or not, that was not bright.

Her lucidity was wreaking havoc again. This time, she’d pulled a PIA agent into her dream. Her brother and the rest of the Para Resistance believed the PIA performed illicit experiments on paras, especially lucids. The PIA did force paras—those not in law enforcement—to medically suppress their special abilities. And no matter what, they distrusted and medically suppressed lucids, who could manipulate anyone’s dreams.